


Penitent Man

by Starofwinter



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Branding, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Guilt, Shippy Gen, no one knows how to use their words here, slight mention of potential self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Din thinks he needs to make up for breaking his Creed.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Penitent Man

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this:
> 
> and got Ideas.
> 
> This could be tied to the Gotal'Aliit AU, or it could be read as gen and unrelated.

“You don’t need to do this,” Boba murmurs, rubbing a hand over the muscle of Din’s bare chest. Any other time, and he would want nothing more than to leave a mark there, but now- 

He can feel Din’s heart hammering under his palm, the way he’s breathing just a little too fast. He’s scared, but he’s so determined. Boba loves him for it, even if it worries him more than anything else. “I want to do it,” he whispers, “ _ I _ need this.” His hand wraps around Boba’s wrist. “I need to  _ prove _ -”

“I know,” Boba says, resting his forehead against Din’s helmet, “I know.” That desperate need to  _ prove himself _ , he knows it too well. 

Fennec isn’t there. She took her rifle and vanished, muttering something about damned honorable Mandalorians, and left them alone to do what Din seems to want so bad. He’s been twisting in on himself for weeks, pushing himself harder and harder; Boba hadn’t known what to expect when he finally came to them, but he hadn’t even considered the idea of Din handing him a carefully forged brand. It’s a Mythosaur skull, the necklace Boba had caught sight of on the kid’s chest in the few moments he’d seen him. The symbol of Mandalore itself. 

* * *

_ “I have to- I allowed others to see my face,” he whispered, and Boba could hear the shame in his voice, “I broke my Creed.” _

_ “Is this something your clan did?” Boba had asked, wanting to understand. There’s a lot he’s learned about Din’s bunch. He’s not sure what he thinks, but whatever he wants to say stays buried deep. Din loves them, loves his Creed, and that’s enough for him. _

_ “No. It feels right,” Din said softly, “I can prove myself-” _

* * *

And he is. He’s slowing his breathing - deep and deliberate - and setting his shoulders, preparing himself for what’s to come. Boba knows he isn’t  _ that _ much older than Din, but sometimes it’s easy to forget when he’s trying so hard to be brave in the face of a pain he chose. 

Boba checks the brand. It’s been heating up against the bright flame of the flash heater, and the metal glows a fiery orange. Even the handle is blood-warm against his palm as he carries it back to Din, and he takes a deep breath of his own to steady his hand. “Are you ready?” He looks down into the darkness of the T-visor and waits. 

“I’m ready,” he murmurs, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair as he leans back, “Do it.” 

When Boba presses the brand to his skin, Din whimpers, but doesn’t make another sound, his knuckles going white as his breath comes in harsh pants. The air stinks of burnt flesh, choking and thick in his throat, and Boba tosses the brand aside to wrap a hand around the back of Din’s neck. “Udesii, ru’rok,” he whispers as Din changes his grip from the chair to his wrist, “Cin vhetin. Udesii.”

Din shakes against him, and it takes a moment for Boba to realize that the broken sounds he’s making are sobs - he doesn’t know if it’s pain or distress, and he doesn’t know how to ask, so he just holds him, careful not to touch the burned mark on his chest, the kyr’bes clear in the reddened skin. 

He loses track of how long they stay like that, but Din goes quiet after a while, and finally he pulls away. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Anything,” Boba says with a shake of his head, “Will you let me take care of that? It won’t scar right if it gets infected.” He needs it as much as Din does, he thinks, willing his hands not to shake. 

Din just nods, following him quietly to the ‘fresher for the medkit. He still hasn’t said anything, and Boba hands over the pouch of sweetened electrolyte drink. “Here, you’re gonna go into shock,” if he’s not already, “Hold still.” He starts to clean the brand, not reacting to Din’s hiss of pain as the antiseptic runs over burned skin. Next is a cool compress, and then a layer of gauze wrapped around his chest. Once that’s finished and taped into place, he holds out a packet of painkillers, but Din shakes his head.

“You’re not gonna gain anything from staying in pain.”

Din just shakes his head again. “I need to.”

“Shabla ruus’kovid,” Boba mutters, but he sighs, “If that’s what you want.” He can’t force him to take them, and if this is another of his fucked up ways of repentance, it’s not going to do any good to argue. “You know where they are if you change your mind.” He busies himself putting the kit back to rights, making note of what needs to be replaced.

“You’re upset,” Din says softly, cocking his head.

Boba sighs, putting the kit away with more force than necessary. “I’m not mad at you,” he says, the words pulled from his chest. Fierfek, he hates having to explain his thoughts. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know that?”

“I needed it,” Din says again, and Boba has to fight the urge to put his head in his hands, or to just hit it against the wall, because that seems like a far more productive option than having this conversation.

“You don’t- you don’t need to hurt to wipe your slate clean every time, you know that, right?”

Din makes a soft noise. “You think this will become a habit.”

“I don’t know what I think. I’m worried about what’s going on in  _ your _ head.” He crosses his arms over his chest, cocking his head. “I just branded you, I think that entitles me to a little concern.”

“I won’t ask you to again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question  _ or _ make me less concerned.”

Din drops his head. “I don’t  _ know _ ,” he says finally, “But I think- I think I’ll be alright.” 

That’s the best Boba can hope for, and he knows it. “Alright,” he says, “Alright.” He steps closer, and Din closes the distance between them to press himself to Boba’s side, leaning into him for support as they make their way to the kitchen.

He just has to hope Din understands that he’s made his penance already; he can let himself have comfort now.

**Author's Note:**

> udesii - easy, calm down, relax  
> ru’rok - it's finished - literally, "you defeated it"  
> cin vhetin - fresh start, clean slate - literally, "white field"  
> kyr'bes - skull, especially mythosaur skull  
> Shabla - colloquially, very/fucking  
> ruus’kovid - hard headed - literally "stone-head"


End file.
